Heard on the Streets

"I'm about to drop it like it's hot."

If you didn't get the memo, Monday is the new Friday. Celebrate! The house across the street often hosts small stoop-parties, but never before so loud as bombs. I once thought they might be a fun bunch to befriend (yeah, I'm currently taking apps), but now I'm thinking, uh, NIET.

It started with drive-by heckling. Later they hit their stride screeching garbled obscenities at faceless neighbors. Then under dog-walker disguise I got close enough to hear the above quoted gem before shorty cued Dr. Dre. Before I could give a rehabilitative shout-out for the old school selection, I was stopped dead by the gruesome sound of two girls giving their best orgasm impression. Top of lungs, owls-under-harrowing-attack-style. It won't pretty. The dirty bird crescend-O was the proverbial straw that got the boys to drag the girls inside. Either it sobered 'em up enough to realize this wasn't very neighborly (or a little too neighborly) or got their wheels a-turnin' in another direction. Whatever the cause, the street thanks them kindly.

Now I’m off to bed with “Nuthin’ but a 'G' Thang” dancing in my head.

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